A Matter of Control
by coffee dazed
Summary: angsty drabble
1. Chapter 1

**A Matter of Control**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with anything remotely 'Merlin' related – not a bean!**

**Note: just a little angsty drabble**

* * *

For all of his lofty ideas, all of his high-minded intentions, he could not escape the harsh reality of the situation. She simply did not meet his father's exacting standards and nothing in this world would change that. He knew he should fight for her, fight for _them_ but he stopped himself. Perhaps it was because he didn't feel grown-up enough, perhaps he wasn't ready to sacrifice everything for her – not yet anyway.

That he loved her, there was no denial. He just didn't know if he loved her enough to claim her for his own and the consequences be damned.

Morgana's plea had simply given him a good excuse to go to her rescue but he had already decided his course of action.

Then _he_ had turned up. He couldn't bring himself to say _his_ name aloud. Only with _his_ arrival did his own feelings become clear but by then it was too late. Both he and Merlin had witnessed the emotion and meaning in that brief handhold. It had spoken volumes and now he shied away from any further thoughts demonstrating his feelings for her, preferring to hide behind the bravado and flippant remarks that came so easily to him.

_His _presence had immediately changed things forever, _he_ was not just any rival for her affections. _He_ was a rival with a real chance, a rival who had already gained a hold on her heart.

He had woken to find _him_ gone, Merlin shuffling around the hastily made camp with a shrug of the shoulders the only explanation for _his_ absence.

It had torn his heart to see how upset she was, her body shaking with heavy sobs as she struggled to control the tears. But still he could not go to her, could not let himself drop the business-like façade that had served him so well for so long.

They endured the long journey home, the silence broken intermittently by Merlin urging them for a break as he had been left to walk back.

He watched her rush to Morgana and his eyes met hers over the shoulder of the King's ward.

He had to make up his mind. He had to decide whether he could watch her go. _No_, he corrected himself. He had to decide whether he could let her go.

_**

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Like it? Don't like it? Please R&R**_

_**x**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Gwen's POV**

She could not believe her ears, that he _actually _said he only came for her because her mistress had begged him to! She had never felt so rejected in all her life and by the man who she cared about in a way she did not think possible.

* * *

Finding Lancelot again had ignited a spark within her that she thought had been long extinguished. He had given her hope of escape when she thought all was lost. There had been no word from Uther for all the days she had been captured and she, correctly, thought that that there would be nothing forthcoming. She had been given up for dead.

Her feelings for the exiled knight both confused and excited her. He was everything that she knew could be attained by a man who did not have the privileges that came with a fortunate birth. Lancelot's daring and bravery were all the more appealing because of the interest that he continued to show in her despite her own genuine attraction towards him. Lancelot could freely give her everything that _he_ could not.

But then, as fate would have it, in her and Lancelot's darkest hour when they faced their doom, _he _arrived just like the handsome princes always rescued the princesses in all the best children's tales. Still, he was not _her_ prince and she could never be his princess. She had to set more realistic goals for herself and in terms of suitable men, there was one quite literally tied to her.

* * *

When Lancelot took her hand that last time, she felt the reassuring, almost proprietary squeeze that he had given and she had gladly accepted it and only belatedly noticed that _he _and Merlin had also picked up on this new development.

She was flattered by Lancelot's attention but when _he_ had confirmed the unsanctioned rescue mission, her heart had leapt only to be brought back down to earth with a thud at his next comment.

Having her life threatened and being constantly reminded by her captor that she had effectively been abandoned by those who supposedly cared for her jarred her all the more for knowing the real reason for the abandonment. It served only to confirm just how little her life was really worth to the view of the world and to be told that the wish of her mistress was more valuable than her own existence drove home the disparity between the worlds of royal nobility and that of everyone else.

So she did the only thing she thought appropriate. She removed herself from the company, pleading need for rest and tried to curl up next to a fallen tree, ignoring them all as best she could.

* * *

Waking up to find Lancelot gone had been difficult to say the least. In her distressed and emotional state, the man who had declared his heart and soul for her had gone with barely a few words of comfort and she could not help but feel deserted by the one person who had promised to always care for her. The tears came unbidden, unleashed by this last act of perceived betrayal.

She knew that there could be no future with the man who had led her rescue and who now remained. Ever since that first kiss which had felt oh-so right, her knees trembled at the memory, her heart beat faster and butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. It was so different to the kiss she shared with the missing knight.

That had stemmed from a shared sense of urgency when it truly seemed that they would never see each other in this world again and it would be their last time together. It had fire and passion but did it make her tremble as with _him_? Gwen was unsure. That Lancelot had escaped with them gave her hope that she might build a life with him, the attainable option, and she could sweep away any further unrealistic thoughts from her mind.

Truth be told, she cried as much for herself as she did for Lancelot.

* * *

The ride back had been torturous, made only bearable by the presence of poor Merlin and the knowledge that she would see Morgana again.

The look that _he _gave her before he retreated down the stairs from her and Morgana was troubling. It suggested genuine care and affection but now there was also a distance which had not previously been there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **think I've decided to turn this drabble into a 4-point POV but will see how it goes

Much hugs and thanks to _dreamland 4_ and _Babybee61_ for reviewing x

**

* * *

Lancelot's POV**

Seeing her sat next to Hengist, her form tiny next to his vast bulk, had been a shock. He had arrived at the dark, forbidding castle as a sell-sword to use his talents to satisfy the Mercians' blood-lust and his need for cold hard coin. With his adrenalin pumping and the rules of combat fresh in his mind, the very last person he expected to see was her. A million questions had run through his mind until the Mercian leader made the introductions and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. He thought how like her it was to sacrifice herself in place of her mistress - always thinking of others, never putting herself first.

He overcame his opponent with little trouble, even going so far as to tease out the contest a bit in order to provide a bit more of a show. In any other contest, he would have had no trouble in despatching his opponent with a swift blow from his sword. It was a far cry from when he had first gone in this direction as he realised that as chivalrous and honourable as he might be, nobody wanted a knight of humble origins. In other words, a knight not of noble birth was no knight at all.

He had balked at the thought of fighting for money but necessity had driven him on and when that necessity had presented him with the option of either killing his opponent or being killed himself, there was little contest. He remembered throwing up violently after his first paid kill, thinking he would never again reduce himself in such a way but as ever, the need to survive meant the need for money and the best way he knew to survive was with his sword. After that, he let his once-immovable principles slip and began to bury the person he had once been.

This time, though, her presence did not allow him to let her see how far he had debased himself and so he showed mercy to his opponent – though, little good it did the ill-fated man.

* * *

Her incarceration in that castle reminded him of the man he had been, the man who had had such dreams and she gave him reason to find that man again and rise towards his goal once more. He had not lied when he said he would die for her a thousand times over, he would have gladly done so a million times but when he saw her dragged into the wilderen cage with him, he could only think of how he had failed her and how he had failed himself.

With the entrance of the wilderen, their death seemed assured but he had not counted on the last-minute rescue. Arthur, the Prince. Arthur, the golden boy. Arthur, who seemingly lived a charmed life. He told himself that he wasn't jealous, that he was grateful for his unexpected arrival but there was that tiny part of him which resented the fact that where he had failed, Arthur had succeeded and spectacularly so. As if to taunt him further, the rescue had been conducted with only Arthur's servant in tow – no cavalry of knights, not even any infantry. Just two impetuous young men on a quest to rescue their friend.

* * *

The way she had pulled her hand from his when she looked at Arthur had roused his suspicion as did her reaction to Arthur's offhand remark and his embarrassed expression afterwards. His brief conversation with Merlin confirmed it.

He made up his mind then. As far as he might have fallen, he could not stand in the way of her happiness with another man who he considered to be far nobler than he could ever hope to be. He truly believed that she would be better off without him. Was it cowardice that he did not stay to say his farewell to her in person? He believed it to be so but if he had waited, he doubted he could have left her and he had no desire to see her caught in a dilemma between two men where he certainly considered himself to be at the disadvantage.

So he entrusted the sorcerer with his last heartfelt words and left. He still hoped to see her again one day, perhaps be able to spend more than just a few fleeting moments with her. Until then, he would strive to prove himself worthy of her affection.


	4. Chapter 4

**Merlin's POV**

He knew that Arthur cared about her and ultimately was more compassionate than his father ever was or ever would be. He had expected him to go after Gwen even against Uther's express wishes because that's what real friends did for each other. What he didn't expect was Arthur's earnest declaration of feeling for Gwen which came out of his good-natured teasing.

So now that he knew the truth of Arthur's emotions, he could sense the change in energy, the heightened importance of finding Gwen alive and well to return her home.

He knew the Arthur of old would have given little thought to the well-being of servants and if he was being honest, Gwen would never have registered on Arthur's consciousness had she not introduced herself whilst he had been held in the stocks and subsequently becoming friends with him.

* * *

It said a lot that Arthur had willingly risked going through those forsaken Tunnels of Andor to hasten their rescue attempt. He had been more than a little upset when his master had revealed his surprise that the gaia berries had worked on misleading the wilderen but that surprise had been nothing compared to finding Lancelot with Gwen!

Racing through the escape tunnels of the Mercian castle, there hadn't been time for explanations but as Arthur broke the chains and forced open the grate, he had turned round in time to see that one gesture. It was so simple and so brief but filled with an intimacy that could only be guessed at. He remembered meeting Arthur's eyes after he too had seen the same sight and his heart tugged in sympathy at the stunned look in that blue gaze which had lost its usual confidence.

* * *

Around the campfire, he saw the old swagger and cockiness return to Arthur but somehow, it was less convincing this time as he answered Lancelot's queries. He saw Gwen's poorly-disguised hurt at his final remark, saw the immediate shame that overcame Arthur and he saw the comprehension that appeared on Lancelot's face. He saw more than most people gave him credit for and he could not lie when Lancelot had asked him the true nature of Arthur's feelings for Gwen. It hurt to hear the knight say he had to leave her. He liked him and thought that the kingdom would do well to have more men like him around but he also understood his reasons for going and it was not his place to prevent his departure.

Telling Gwen in the morning had been heartbreaking. Seeing her cheerful, hopeful expression crumble into abject loss was almost too much to bear and he felt wrong repeating those poignant words to her. Those words should have been coming from the lips of another.

When he heard Arthur call them to restart their journey, he wanted to shake some sense into him, prince or no prince. What Gwen needed was to be reassured that her love was being reciprocated, that she had never been abandoned, especially not by him. What she did not need was a brusque order to get going on the road again and a tensely silent ride home.

In a way, he was almost glad that he had been left to walk. The pain in his feet distracted his mind from dwelling on the tangled situation of his two friends.


End file.
